Erak_s ransom ra-7

by John Flanagan

  'Thank you,' he said, and once more she smiled at him. He felt a sense of warmth towards this kind, humorous woman. Aseikh Umar was a lucky man, he thought.

  As they passed through the camp, he noticed that people stopped to watch him – particularly the children. Several times he heard the words the foreigner muttered behind him. Such curiosity was only natural, he thought. But there were also smiles and gestures of welcome – the by-now familiar mouth-brow-mouth gesture – and he returned the smiles and nodded his head in greeting.

  'Your people are very friendly,' he said. Cielema frowned thoughtfully.

  'Not always,' she told him. 'As a rule, we like to keep to ourselves. But everyone is happy when someone is saved from the savage Skylord.' She gestured upwards and he realised that she meant the sun. He guessed it was a constant enemy and threat to these people.

  They were close to the centre of the camp now and he could see a group of half a dozen men sitting round in a circle. All of them wore yellow and white checked kheffiyehs – like the one he had noticed on his rescuer. Cielema stopped him with a gentle pressure on his arm.

  'We must wait,' she said. 'They are involved in important business.'

  Her tone was serious, almost reverential. The two of them stopped, some five metres from the group of men. They were all leaning forward, staring intently at an upright rock placed in the middle of the circle. Will thought they must be praying, although no words were being said.

  Then, as one, they all slumped back with a roar of disappointment.

  'It flew away!' said one figure and Will recognised the voice. It was the man who had rescued him. 'Almost to the top and it flew away!'

  He looked questioningly to Cielema and she rolled her eyes at him. 'Can you believe it?' she said. 'Grown men gambling on two flies crawling up a stone!'

  'Gambling?' he said. 'I thought they were praying.'

  She raised an eyebrow. 'To them, it's much the same thing. The Bedullin will bet on just about anything. It's almost a religion.' She urged him closer as the circle began to break up and most of the men moved away. 'Aseikh Umar!' she called. 'Your visitor has woken.'

  Her husband stood and turned to them with a wide smile. Will recognised the powerful face and the big, crooked nose. Umar stepped towards him, both hands out. He went to seize Will's forearms in greeting but his wife hissed warningly.

  'Careful, buffoon! His arms are burnt!'

  Realising his mistake, the Aseikh held both hands in the air in a kind of blessing gesture instead. 'Of course! Of course! Please, come and sit. Tell me your name. I am… '

  'He knows who you are. You are the great fly-gambling Umar. His name is Will.'

  Umar grinned easily at his wife. Will had the impression that this sort of byplay went on between the two of them all the time. Then he looked back at Will.

  'It's good to see you awake. You were nearly finished when we found you! Come and sit and tell me what you were doing.' He looked at Cielema. 'Beloved wife, will you bring us coffee?'

  Cielema raised an eyebrow and looked inquiringly at Will. 'Would you like coffee, Will?'

  His mouth watered at the thought of it, a sure sign he was recovering quickly. 'I'd love coffee,' he said.

  She made a graceful bow. 'In that case, I will bring some.'

  She swept away, her head held high. Umar grinned after her. Then he turned his attention back to Will and ushered him to the circle of cushions.

  'So, your name is Will,' he said as they sat cross-legged.

  'It is.' Will paused, then added, 'I want to thank you for saving my life, Aseikh Umar.'

  The Bedullin waved his thanks away. 'It was the horse you were riding that saved your life. And he did so twice.'

  'Arrow!' said Will, remembering. He hadn't seen Arrow since he'd been rescued. 'Where is he? What did he do?'

  Umar's smile disappeared. 'He's dead, Will. A lion took him during the night. That was the first time he saved you. The lion took him, and not you. We saw its tracks and it passed within two or three metres of where you lay. The horse was obviously moving and making noise so that the lion never noticed you.'

  'Dead,' Will said, saddened. Arrow had been a good horse. Umar nodded sympathetically. He admired a man who cared for his horse.

  'He saved your life a second time the following morning,' he said. 'The vultures gathered to feast on him and we saw them. I came to investigate and… there you were.' He smiled, back on a more cheerful topic.

  Will shook his head gratefully. 'Once again, you have my gratitude,' he said.

  As before, Umar dismissed his thanks. 'It's what we do in the desert. In fact, it's considered good luck to save a fellow traveller in trouble.' Then his face quickened with interest. 'We have your weapons!' he said. He turned and called to a low, wide-spreading tent a few metres away. 'Ahmood! Bring the foreigner's weapons!'

  A teenage boy emerged from the tent a few seconds later. Grinning, he deposited Will's knives, in their double scabbard, and his bow and quiver. He also set down the folded chart and the Northseeker in its leather case. Will stood and buckled on the double scabbard. He felt a sense of completeness. No Ranger was ever totally comfortable without his weapons. Umar watched him carefully, then picked up the unstrung bow.

  'I've never seen one like this before,' he said. 'It must be amazingly powerful.'

  'It is,' Will said. Quickly, he settled the bow in front of his left ankle and behind his right calf. Using his back muscles, he bent the bow and slid the string up into the notch at the end. He handed it to Umar, who tested the draw weight, grimaced slightly, then returned the weapon to Will.

  'Show me,' he said, handing Will an arrow from the quiver.

  Will nocked the arrow and looked around for a suitable mark. He noticed a group of boys fifty metres away, playing a game with a small leather ball. They used their feet, heads and bodies to keep it in the air, passing it between them without letting it touch the ground. He started to look for a safer area to demonstrate, then glanced back as something caught his eye. The smallest boy, no more than eight years old, had lost control of the ball, sending it bouncing and rolling until it ended under a flat rock. Laughing, he ran after it and dropped to his hands and knees, reaching for it.

  Will drew, aimed and fired in the space of a heartbeat. His arrow flashed across the oasis, missing the boy's reaching hand by centimetres, and ended, quivering, embedded under the rock. The boy recoiled, screaming in terror. His companions echoed his cries, turning to see where the arrow had come from.

  A massive fist struck Will backhanded across the jaw. He staggered and fell, the bow dropping from his hands. Umar's face was contorted in rage.

  'You reckless fool! Do you think you'll impress me by risking the life of my grandchild? You could have killed him!'

  His hand dropped to the massive hilt of a heavy dagger in his belt. Will, stunned by the blow, tried to regain his feet but a savage kick from Umar winded him and sent him sprawling again. In the distance, Will could hear the child, still crying in fright, and a jumble of voices calling out – shouting in surprise and anger and fear.

  He heard the faint metallic shring! of the dagger being drawn from its scabbard. Then Cielema's voice, shrill and urgent, was carrying above the others.

  'Umar, stop! Look at this!'

  Umar turned away from the prone figure before him. His wife had been returning with the coffee when she had passed by their grandson and witnessed the incident. Now she was on her knees, reaching for something under the rock. With an effort, she tugged Will's arrow free. With it, held firmly by the barbed broadhead, was the metre-long body of the sand cobra he had shot. The arrow had passed cleanly through the snake's head, killing it instantly.

  A second before it could strike at the boy.

  The dagger dropped from Umar's hand as he realised what had happened, what he had done. Aghast, he stooped to help Will to his feet.

  'Forgive me! I'm sorry! I thought… '

  Will was still gasping for
breath when Cielema reached them, brandishing the dead snake impaled on the arrow.

  'What are you doing, you fool?' she demanded. 'The boy saved Faisal!'

  Umar had hauled Will to his feet and begun to feverishly brush him down, a stricken look in his eyes. He had been about to kill the young man who had undoubtedly saved his grandson's life.

  'Forgive me!' he said frantically. But Cielema brushed past him, shoving him away from the young foreigner.

  'Get away!' she said roughly. She dropped the dead snake, took Will's jaw in her hands and gently worked it from side to side, her head cocked to listen. 'Are you all right?' she asked him. He tried a weak grin, then wished he hadn't when it hurt his jaw.

  'Bit swollen,' he said thickly. 'Bu' I'm all ri'.'

  She moved quickly to where a jar of water stood outside the large tent nearby. Dipping the end of her scarf in it, she came back and pressed the cool wet cloth against his jaw. Umar tried once more to placate her.

  'I'm sorry!' he said. 'I thought that… ' He got no further. She rounded on him savagely.

  'You thought? When did you ever think? You were ready to kill the boy! I saw you with that knife of yours!'

  Will took her hands and removed the wet cloth from his face. He worked his jaw a little, making sure nothing was broken.

  'It's all right,' he told her. 'No harm done. I'm a little bruised. It was just a misunderstanding.'

  'Exactly!' Umar told her. 'A misunderstanding.' Cielema looked at him savagely.

  'He saved Faisal's life,' she said. 'And what did you do?' Umar went to reply, realised there was nothing he could say that would placate his furious wife, and dropped his hands helplessly. He knew that he had acted in haste, that he was in the wrong. But what could you expect? It certainly had looked as if the stranger had shot close to his grandson in an arrogant and reckless display of his marksmanship. Now that Umar thought about it, he realised that the stranger's marksmanship was of the highest possible order. He had never seen anyone shoot like that. He looked again at his wife, saw the anger in her eyes and the set of her body and knew that there was nothing he could say.

  Will stepped into the awkward silence. 'He saved my life, remember?' He grinned a little lopsidedly at the Aseikh. 'I'd say that makes us even.' He held out his hand to the Bedullin, who took it gratefully, and gripped it.

  'You see?' he said to his wife. 'There are no hard feelings. It was a mistake!'

  Seeing Will's reaction, and his disinclination to hold any sort of grudge, Cielema relaxed a little. She even allowed herself a small, tight smile at the two men as they continued shaking hands.

  'Very well,' she said. Then, to Will, 'But you must tell us anything we can do for you.'

  He shrugged. 'You've already done more than enough. Just give me a day or two to rest and regain my strength; give me food, water and my horse. Then give me directions for Mararoc and I won't bother you any more.'

  But the Aseikh was frowning at his words. 'Your horse,?' he said. 'Your horse died. I told you. A lion took it.'

  Will shook his head, smiling. 'Not that horse. Tug. The little shaggy grey that was with you when you found me. He's my horse.'

  Now it was the Aseikh's turn to shake his head. He was reluctant to cause any disappointment to the stranger. But he had to face facts.

  'He's not your horse,' he said. 'He's ours.'

  Chapter 30

  Now that they had decided on taking the more direct route to the Khor-Abash Wells, there seemed to be no point in having Gilan, Halt and Selethen ride ahead.

  Before dawn the following morning, the entire party broke camp and set out together. Initially, Selethen led them on a long swing due west, before angling back to a north-west course – the base course that the Tualaghi had been following. This gave them enough clearance so that they would avoid running into the Tualaghi war party on one of their westerly zigzags.

  With no need to follow the Tualaghi's tracks any more, they were able to revert to their original travel pattern, travelling in the cooler hours of darkness before dawn. In addition, they continued to move north-west after the sun had set, giving themselves an extra hour or two of travel each day. In this way, they were able to gain considerable ground on the enemy. As they camped in the darkness on the second day of direct travel, one of Selethen's scouts rode into camp and reported to his Wakir. Selethen listened, then approached the spot where the Araluan party were sitting, a satisfied smile on his face.

  'We were right,' he said. 'My scout tells me that the Tualaghi force is following a course parallel to ours. They are camped for the night, approximately ten kilometres to the north-east.' He glanced meaningfully at the small, semi-concealed cookfire that was all he had allowed for their party. Its light, he knew, would be barely visible from a distance of more than two kilometres. 'Apparently, they're convinced that we have lost their trail. They're not worrying about concealing their fires.'

  Halt scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'Of course, under normal circumstances, you would have given up and turned back long ago, wouldn't you?'

  The Arridi leader nodded. 'Exactly. It seems that our friends are becoming overconfident in their ability to lose us.'

  'And overconfidence,' Halt added, 'can be a dangerous thing.' He turned to the younger Ranger, who was relaxing, the small of his back supported by his saddle, the ever-present coffee in his hands. 'Gil,' he said, 'd'you think you're up to taking a look at their camp tonight?'

  Gilan smiled and finished his coffee. 'Thought you'd never ask,' he said. He glanced up at the quarter moon, now low in the western sky. 'Moon'll set in half an hour or so. Might as well get going now.'

  'According to Selethen's man, you should be able to see the loom of their fires from about four kilometres away. Leave Blaze there and go ahead on foot. Make sure you cover your tracks and… ' Halt paused, aware that Gilan was watching him with a patient smile on his face. 'Sorry,' he said. If anyone knew how to go about a surveillance job like this, it was Gilan. 'You know all this, right?' he added, a rueful smile on his face.

  'Right,' said Gilan. 'But it never hurts to be reminded. Anything in particular you want me to look for?'

  Halt thought, then shrugged. 'The obvious. See if you can spot Erak. See how they have him guarded. If there's a chance we could break him out of their camp by stealth, I'd rather do that than fight a pitched battle. Numbers, of course. Let's find out how many of them there really are. Anything else you think might be of interest.'

  'Consider it done.' Gilan had hoisted his saddle over one shoulder and was heading towards the spot where their horses were quartered for the night. Horace rose hastily, brushing sand from his knees.

  'Hold up, Gilan. Want some company?' he asked. Gilan hesitated. He didn't want to offend the young warrior.

  'Might be better if he went alone, Horace,' Halt cautioned. 'He's trained to move silently and you're not.'

  Horace nodded his understanding. 'I know that. But I can wait back where he leaves Blaze – keep an eye on things. Even I can't be heard from four kilometres away.'

  'That's debatable,' Halt said, perfectly straight-faced. Then he looked at Gilan. 'But he does have a point. Might be a good idea to have some backup close by.'

  'Fine by me,' Gilan said, relieved now that he knew there was no need to offend Horace. 'I'll be glad of the company. Let's get saddled.'

  Horace reached down and seized his own saddle and together, the two walked towards their horses.

  ***

  'This is as far as you'd better go,' Gilan told Horace. The younger man nodded and they both swung down to the ground. Horace tethered Kicker's reins to a thorn bush. Gilan, in the way of Rangers, simply dropped his reins on the ground.

  'Stay,' he said to Blaze.

  The bay, they both knew, would confine his movements to a radius of twenty metres or so until his master returned. Gilan and Horace surveyed the skyline to the north-east.

  'They're getting cocky, aren't they?' Horace said. Even at this distance, t
he glow of the Tualaghi camp fires was clearly visible in the sky above the horizon.

  'They are indeed,' Gilan said. 'Let that be a lesson to you. Never assume you've given someone the slip until you're absolutely sure of it.'

  He unslung his bow and quiver and laid them on the ground. He wouldn't be needing them on this mission and they'd just get in his way. Similarly, he unclipped his scabbarded sword from his belt. That left him with his saxe knife and throwing knife, which were weapons enough.

  'Do you want me to loosen Blaze's saddle girth?' Horace asked and Gilan answered without hesitation.

  'No. Leave it as it is. Kicker's too. We may want to get out of here in a hurry if anything goes wrong.'

  Horace regarded him with some interest. He knew the young Ranger's reputation as one of the finest unseen movers in the Ranger Corps – perhaps the finest. It was said that Gilan could approach to within a few metres of a wide awake sentry, steal his belt and shoes, and leave the man wondering why his pants were falling down and his feet were cold. Horace knew it was an exaggeration – but not by much.

  'Are you expecting something to go wrong?' he asked. Gilan looked at him seriously and laid one hand on his shoulder.

  'Always expect something to go wrong,' he told him. 'Believe me, if you're wrong, you're not disappointed. If you're right, you're ready for it.'

  Sometimes it felt strange to be giving this sort of advice to someone who was a knight, and recognised as a fine swordsman. But Gilan had to make himself remember that Horace was only young, no matter how accomplished he might be.

  'See you in a couple of hours,' he said, and melted away into the darkness.

  ***

  Gilan moved quickly and silently over the rough ground. As he reached the crest of the first ridge between him and the Tualaghi camp, he glanced back once to where the tall figure and the two horses stood waiting. Then he dropped to the ground and rolled silently over the ridge and into the dark area below it, avoiding sky-lining himself to any possible observer. The only thing that such a person might have seen would have been a low, indeterminate shape that briefly broke the line of the horizon before disappearing.